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diff --git a/10964-h/10964-h.htm b/10964-h/10964-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e7cf36 --- /dev/null +++ b/10964-h/10964-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1452 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, Jan. 1, 1919, by Various</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + hr.poem {margin-left: 0%; width: 50%; } + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.9em; } + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img, + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, figleft p, + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left; } + .footnote {font-size: 0.9em; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10964 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, +Jan. 1, 1919, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1> + + +</pre> +<center><b>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online distributed Proofreading Team</b></center> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 156.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>January 1, 1919.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page001" id="page001"></a>[pg +1]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/001.png"><img width="100%" src="images/001.png" alt= +"Angel of Peace" /></a></div> +<hr /> +<h2>TO AN UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE.</h2> +<p><i>(Inspired by the exchange of Minutes in Government +Departments.)</i></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He was my friend—if friendship's proof</p> +<p class="i2">Be sympathy profound and sweet;</p> +<p>Eight months we toiled beneath one roof,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet somehow never chanced to meet.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So near and yet so far! I own</p> +<p class="i2">We may have passed upon the stair;</p> +<p>Yet, if we did, we passed unknown;</p> +<p class="i2">No tremor told me he was there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He knew not it was I. Alas!</p> +<p class="i2">With such community of souls</p> +<p>That he and I should blindly pass</p> +<p class="i2">And live as sundered as the poles!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For I, when darkness sealed my eyes,</p> +<p class="i2">Would place my judgment in his hands,</p> +<p>Would ask him humbly to advise</p> +<p class="i2">And yield myself to his commands;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Just hinting what my view might be</p> +<p class="i2">(If asked) on this or that affair,</p> +<p>But never in undue degree</p> +<p class="i2">And with a deprecating air.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And he, thus modestly addressed,</p> +<p class="i2">Would wield an amicable pen</p> +<p>And say he thought my view was best</p> +<p class="i2">In full nine cases out of ten.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And so in deep harmonious flood</p> +<p class="i2">Our friendship flowed, and proved, I think,</p> +<p>Though water be less dense than blood,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet blood is far less dense than ink.</p> +<hr class="poem" /> +<p>And now, when things are somewhat slow,</p> +<p class="i2">My leisure moments I beguile</p> +<p>By reading o'er with heart aglow</p> +<p class="i2">A certain old and dusty file—-</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>One out of hundreds, kept to prove</p> +<p class="i2">A truth the world may oft forget,</p> +<p>That there can live pure trust and love</p> +<p class="i2">'Twixt persons who have never met.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, sweet the trill of mating larks!</p> +<p class="i2">But sweeter, sweeter, I aver,</p> +<p>That soft appeal—"For your remarks,"</p> +<p class="i2">That gentle answer—"We concur."</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page002" id="page002"></a>[pg +2]</span> +<h3>CHARIVARIA.</h3> +<p>A Fellow of the Royal Society states that, as a result of radium +activity, the end of the world, which had been estimated to arrive +in a few thousand years, may be postponed for a million aeons. It +is hoped that this will allay the anxiety of those soldiers who +were nervous about their chances of being demobilized.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is reported that when asked his impression of President +WILSON Mr. BALFOUR remarked, "Gee! He's the top shout and the main +squeeze. And then some."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"How much water," asks a technical journal, "does it take to +make a gallon of Government ale?" We do not profess to be expert, +but we should say about a gallon.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>There is no truth in the rumour that TROTSKY has written to +President WILSON offering to execute the Peace Conference at any +time within the next three months at half the usual rates.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A case which has been puzzling the medical authorities is +reported from Warwickshire. After acting strangely for several days +a boy named TOMMY SMITH asked his parents if he could have rice +pudding instead.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Great Britain," says an essayist, "has come out of the war with +flying colours." No blame, we understand, attaches to Mr. PHILIP +SNOWDEN for this.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A large marrow has been washed ashore at Lowestoft bearing a +name and address and the words, "Please write." It is not known why +the marrow left home.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A report comes from Berlin that Dr. SOLF has resigned. It is +expected that he will be succeeded by Dr. SOLF.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The greengrocer who deliberately attempted to spoil President +WILSON'S welcome by exhibiting American apples for sale on Boxing +Day is suspected of being a naturalised German.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A North of England widower would like to meet lady possessing in +her own right a bottle of whisky. Object, matrimony.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The largely increased number of unemployed politicians is +causing the country great concern.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Heavy falls of snow have occurred in the Midlands, where the +people say they have not had such a winter since last summer.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Described as the tallest soldier in Ireland, MICHAEL GRADY, of +County Mayo, who is seven feet two inches in height, hopes to +settle down on a farm. It is expected that he will shortly be +measured for a village.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"To improve the appetite," says a Health Culture journal, "one +should salute the morn by throwing open the windows, lay on the +bedroom floor with the feet in the air and breathe deeply." This +method of saluting is not recommended to recruits.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The latest Sunday newspaper reminds us that it prints all the +news. It must do better than this if it is to keep pace with some +of our contemporaries.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Charged at Carmarthen with bigamy a soldier said he had no +recollection of his second marriage. Once again we feel compelled +to point out the advantage of keeping a diary.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It appears that one burglar has claimed his discharge from the +Army on the ground that he is a pivotal man and that several +policemen are waiting for him.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is wrong to suppose, says the Coal Control Department, that +anthracite is injurious to health. The little ones all declare that +its flavour compares favourably with that of Brazil nuts.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Three cases of mince-pie shock are reported from the Westbourne +Grove district.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A woman has been fined ten shillings at Birmingham for putting +cold tea in bottles and selling it as whisky. One of the +purchasers, it appears, had his suspicions aroused by the peculiar +taste of the liquid.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The KAISER'S health, says a contemporary, is still a cause of +anxiety.</p> +<p>Not to us.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"SHOOTINGS WANTED.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Woman (middle-aged, respectable) would give services for home +and small wage."</p> +<p><i>Scottish Paper</i></p> +</blockquote> +She would probably be quite effective at ordinary ranges.<br /> +<br /> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Would the Party who removed Petticoat from the Railway Fence, +between 11th and 12th, kindly return same and save further +exposure."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the interests of propriety we trust this appeal has been +responded to.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ANOTHER HISTORIC INTERVIEW.</h3> +<br /> +<br /> +<h5>BY OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.</h5> +<p><i>Incited to great efforts by the interview in "The Times" with +President WILSON, wherein so much is said (by the interviewer), Mr. +Punch sent forth one of his most energetic and Napoleonic young men +to attempt a similarly incredible feat and obtain an interview with +that most unapproachable of men—President not +excluded—the Editor of "The Times." The word "failure" being +absent from the Bouverie Street lexicon, it follows that the +impossible was achieved, and the electrifying result is printed +below. In the wish that readers in vaster numbers than usual may +peruse the winged words of the illustrious journalist, Mr. Punch +offers the freedom of the article to all editors the world +over.</i></p> +<p>The office of <i>The Times</i> is situated in a busy quarter of +the great city of London and is built of brick and stone. Light +enters the numerous rooms through windows made of glass. Outside is +the roar of traffic; inside, the presses groan, not always without +reason.</p> +<p>My appointment with the august and retiring controller of the +great English journal—the Jupiter who directs its +thunderbolts, determines the size of type appropriate to every +correspondent, and latterly has added to the gaiety of nations by +offering a tilting-space to the ATTORNEY-GENERAL and Mr. GIBSON +BOWLES—my appointment being at three o'clock I was careful to +reach the office a few minutes before that hour, because I like to +have time to look around and collect those little details of +environment and atmosphere which are so valuable in themselves as +to make it almost immaterial whether the person I am to interview +speaks at all.</p> +<p>Entering the offices, which can be described only as palatial, I +was struck by the thoughtfulness—no doubt appertaining to the +head of the establishment who was so soon, for the first time in +history, to grant me an audience—which had provided a +parallelogram of some fibrous material for the purpose of removing +the mud from one's boots. A minute later I was again delighted by +the discovery of an ingenious contrivance in the shape of a kind of +peg or hook on which a hat and coat could be placed. It is by just +such minutiae as these that one place is distinguished from another +and character indicated.</p> +<p>Punctually to the minute I was shown into the Editor's room, +where again I was struck by the imaginative adequacy of the +surroundings. Before coming to the man himself let me say something +of these. The floor was not bare or even sprinkled with sawdust, as +it might easily have been, but it was covered by a comfortable +carpet, probably from Axminster. Comfort was indeed the note. The +desk was neither pitch pine nor teak, but mahogany. Upon it were +scattered papers—lightly scattered, although no doubt each +was of the most momentous, even tragical import, some bearing the +signatures of the most eminent publicists in the land. Yet, such is +the domination of this man, they lay there like circulars or +election addresses. In the ink-pot was ink. A date rack was proof +that the Editor is not superior to the artificial divisions of +time.</p> +<p>As I entered, his back was towards me, but none the less I was +conscious of power, distinction, a man apart. I have seen many +backs, but none more notable than this. Turning he revealed to the +full the wonder and mystery of his famous frown—the frown of +Jupiter Tonans. Much has been said of this frown, but since no +analysis has yet appeared in print I must be permitted to offer +one. To begin with, the frown is not only on his face, but (one +instinctively knows) all over him. It suffuses him. Could one see, +for instance, his knee, one is sure that it would be frowning +too.</p> +<p>The effect was terrifying, but I stood my ground. As for the +face, where the frown concentrates, it is most curiously divided. +Below the masterful nose the frown may be said to be merely +threatening; above the firm upper lip it assumes a quality of such +dourness as to resemble a scowl. The forehead is corrugated. The +ears twitch, especially the left. The eyes emit sparks.</p> +<p>Hitherto he had not spoken; but now he began to unburden himself +of those opinions, hopes, fancies and idealistic meditations for +which I had come so far to see him. In order that there shall be no +ambiguity I have arranged for them to be set up in larger type than +the rest of the article. After all, any type will suit my own poor +setting, but the jewels, the jewels must be seen.</p> +<p>"Be seated, pray," he said. "The world," he added after a long +silence, "is in an unusual state. The Versailles Conferences may +effect great changes."</p> +<p>"Everyone hopes," he remarked after another pause, "that the +weather will improve; recently it has been far from +invigorating."</p> +<p>I give his exact words with scrupulous minuteness.</p> +<p>"A permanent peace," he continued, "based upon equity, cannot +but be desired. The Election results," he added as an afterthought, +"are interesting."</p> +<p>Asked what he thought of the PRIME MINISTER, he pondered deeply +for a while and then replied, in carefully measured tones, "I think +him an exceptional man."</p> +<p>Pressed as to the League of Nations, he considered the matter +for some minutes and then said, "It is a fine notion. We might all +be the happier if it came."</p> +<p>My time being now up he bowed me to the door and the interview +was over. The knob was of brass and had been, recently +polished.</p> +<p>His last words were, "Mind the step."</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page003" id="page003"></a>[pg +3]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/003.png"><img width="100%" src="images/003.png" alt= +"RECONSTRUCTION; A NEW YEAR'S TASK." /></a> +<h3>RECONSTRUCTION; A NEW YEAR'S TASK.</h3> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page004" id="page004"></a>[pg +4]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/004.png"><img width="100%" src="images/004.png" alt= +"Bore and Weary Wounded" /></a> +<p><i>Bore.</i>"I HAVE BEEN MAKING A VERY INTERESTING CALCULATION. +NOW, JUST HAVE A GUESS. IF ALL THE WOUND-STRIPES WERE PLACED END TO +END HOW FAR DO YOU THINK THEY WOULD REACH?"</p> +<p><i>Weary Wounded.</i> "DUNNO, GUV'NOR. STEP IT OUT AND SHOW +US."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page005" id="page005"></a>[pg +5]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/005.png"><img width="100%" src="images/005.png" alt= +"LOVE-LETTERS" /></a> +<p><i>Officer (to whom private has given three ardent love-letters, +addressed to different persons, to censor).</i> "WELL, WHAT ARE YOU +WAITING FOR?"</p> +<p><i>Private.</i> "'SCUSE ME, SIR, BUT I JUST WANTED TO SEE YOU +DIDN'T MAKE NO MISTAKE ABOUT THE ENVELOPES."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE ANTI-PICADORS.</h3> +<p>A conference of subscribers and contributors to the +correspondence columns of <i>The Times</i> was held at Caxton Hall +on Saturday last, to discuss the situation created in the issue of +December 21st by the printing of the interview with President +WILSON in larger type than had ever been used previously in the +body of the paper. Amongst those present were "Scrutator," "Bis Dat +Qui Cito Dat," "Judex," "Vindex," "Palmam Qui Meruit Ferat," +"Rusticus Expectans," "Old Etonian," "Anxious Parent," +"Anti-Jacobin," "Puzzled," "Octogenarian," "Quousque Tandem," and +"The Thin End of the Wedge."</p> +<p>The Chair was taken by a "Subscriber of Fifty Years' Standing," +who prefaced his remarks by observing that neither he nor any of +those present was animated by the faintest antagonism to President +WILSON. Their gratitude to him for his services in the War was so +great that, in the abstract, they could have no objection to his +being accorded the distinction of the largest possible type, so +long as proper distinction was made typographically between the +remarks of the PRESIDENT and the comments of the +interviewer—as for example that Mr. WILSON's bedroom is +"strictly First Empire," or that "there seems to be some kind of +competition between the upper and the lower halves of his +features," or that his "grey lounge suit" was "well cut into his +body." But there ought to be some harmony between the size of the +type and the importance of the views expressed. He had himself +contributed many letters to <i>The Times</i> on subjects of the +greatest urgency, but had never attained the dignity even of long +primer. (Sensation.) He thought that in the circumstances they were +entitled to address a modest protest to the Editor, to the effect +that the use of "pica" should be reserved for the rarest occasions +and not be allowed to prejudice the claims of those who were +entitled to exercise the indefeasible privilege of "writing to +<i>The Times</i>." (Cheers.)</p> +<p>"Scrutator," who followed, disclaimed any personal grievance. +His letters had always appeared in large type and on the best +pages. But he drew the line at "pica"; it looked too like an +advertisement and destroyed the balance of the page. In old days an +editor controlled the "make-up" of his paper. Now he was at the +mercy of his "maker-up."</p> +<p>"Judex," speaking from the body of the hall, said that he had +heard the interview in question spoken of as a "splendid scoop." He +was not certain what the phrase meant, but he did not like the +sound of it, and dreaded the prospect of President WILSON being +made the subject of a typographical competition between our daily +papers. While the paper shortage lasted this might lead to very +serious results in the way of restricting the space available for +the ventilation of the views of those present.</p> +<p>An "Anxious Parent" pointed out that the use of "pica" was +unfortunate, as it irresistibly suggested "picador," one who +participated in a cruel sport, whereas President WILSON was a most +humane and compassionate man and had never assisted at a +bull-fight.</p> +<p>After several other speeches it was ultimately resolved to form +an association, to be known as the "Anti-Picador League," and a +small committee was appointed to draw up an appeal to the principal +Editors to abstain as far as possible from typographical +Jumbomania.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page006" id="page006"></a>[pg +6]</span> +<h3>BOY (SECOND CLASS).</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>BOY (Second Class) John Simpkins, a bad 'un, you must know,</p> +<p>Was told to swab a plank one day by a First-Class C.P.O.,</p> +<p>Whose eagle eye, returning, on the deck espied a +stain—</p> +<p>"Boy Simpkins, fetch your mop, me lad, and swab yon plank +again."</p> +<p>Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!) made as though he wouldn't +go,</p> +<p>And distinctly muttered "Blast you!" to that First-Class +C.P.O.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The splendid Petty Officer fell flat upon the deck;</p> +<p>They bore him to the Sick Bay just a weak and worthless +wreck;</p> +<p>But an A.B. who was standing by had caught the wicked word</p> +<p>And told the Duty Officer exactly what occurred:—</p> +<p>"Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!), which I think yer oughter +know, Sir,</p> +<p>'Ad the lip ter mutter 'Blast you!' ter the Fust-Class C.P.O., +Sir."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There is silence in the foc's'le, on the quarter-deck +dismay,</p> +<p>And the lower deck is humming in a most unusual way;</p> +<p>The working-party pauses as it cleans a six-inch gun,</p> +<p>And the Officer on Duty whispers hoarse to "Number +One":—</p> +<p>"Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!), I suppose you ought to know, +Sir,</p> +<p>Had the cheek to mutter 'Blast you!' to a First-Class C.P.O., +Sir."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Number One, his face is ashen and his knees knock as he runs</p> +<p>(A curious phenomenon quite rare in Number Ones);</p> +<p>But on he rushed until he saw the tall brass-hatted Bloke,</p> +<p>And, nervously saluting, incoherently he spoke:—</p> +<p>"Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!), I'm afraid that you must +know, Sir,</p> +<p>Had the nerve to mutter 'Blast you!' to a First-Class C.P.O., +Sir."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Bloke turned blue and shivered, then hysterically +laughed,</p> +<p>And hurried, cackling shrilly, to the Owner's cabin aft;</p> +<p>There in that awful presence, with lips aghast and pale,</p> +<p>To the horror-haunted Owner he re-told the horrid +tale:—</p> +<p>"Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!), I regret to let you know, +Sir,</p> +<p>Had the face to mutter 'Blast you!' to a First-Class C.P.O., +Sir!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>You could almost hear the silence when the flags began to +flap</p> +<p>And the Captain made the signal that destroyed the Admiral's +nap;</p> +<p>And though I wasn't there myself beside the great man's bed</p> +<p>You all can guess as well as I just what the Owner +said:—"SUBMITTED.</p> +<p>Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!), it is thought you ought to +know, Sir,</p> +<p>Has dared to mutter 'Blast you!' to a First-Class C.P.O., +Sir!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Press Bureau won't let me mention how the Admiral went</p> +<p>And told Sir ERIC GEDDES, who informed the Government;</p> +<p>How the Cabinet, when summoned, found him far too bad to +kill,</p> +<p>So packed him off to Weiringen to valet LITTLE WILL.</p> +<p>Boy Simpkins (Second Class, too!) down to history will go</p> +<p>As the first and last who dared say "Blast" to a First-Class +C.P.O.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>NOVEL RECONSTRUCTION.</h3> +<p>Simmons is a writer of fiction and was a friend of mine.</p> +<p>I used to play billiards with Simmons, to talk to Simmons, but +not to read Simmons.</p> +<p>There are limits to friendship.</p> +<p>I met him the other day in a very depressed state.</p> +<p>"Look at these munition workers," he said. "See what the +Government is doing for them. Paying them wages all the time that +they're out of work. What about me?"</p> +<p>"Well, you weren't on munitions."</p> +<p>"I have been on intellectual munitions," replied Simmons. "And +now all my editors write to me, 'Get away from the War.' I have to +transfer my machinery to peace work. I have to turn away from the +production of the German spy. Think of it. I have almost lived on +him for years. I have created hundreds of him during the War. All +my laboriously acquired knowledge of German terms—like +'<i>Schweinhund</i>,' you know—goes for nothing. I shall have +to make all my villains Bolsheviks. That will require close study +of Russia. All my old Russian knowledge goes for nothing. They have +abolished the knout and exile to Siberia. I have to start +afresh.</p> +<p>"Then look at my heroes. I have mastered the second lieutenant. +My typewriter almost automatically writes 'old top,' 'old soul,' +'old bean,' 'old egg.' All my study of this type is thrown away. +And heroines—why, I shall have to study dress again. The +hospital nurse is done for; the buxom proportions of the land-girl +avail me no more. My dear fellow, it will be six months before I +can deal with women's costume competently.</p> +<p>"And plots. How the War simplified everything. The Zep, a +failure in fact, was a splendid success in fiction. The awkward +people could be wiped out so simply. Then one's villains could die +gallantly—a bit of good in the worst of men, you +know—whispering a hurried confession in the ears of the +Company Sergeant-Major in the front trenches.</p> +<p>"Then, again, all misunderstandings were explained when the V.C. +looked up from his hospital bed. 'Eric,' she gushed, 'you here!' +And from that moment he needed no more medicine. My dear fellow, we +shall want new plots now; real plots and new characters. It will be +a long time before I can return to my pre-war standard of strong, +silent, masterful millionaires from the backwoods. Haven't I a +right to seek compensation from the Government for checking my +intellectual output?"</p> +<p>"I think the Government ought to pay you ten pounds for every +week in which you don't write," I said.</p> +<p>Simmons shook me warmly by the hand.</p> +<p>The next day he cut me dead. I believe that Simmons, though an +author of popular fiction, must have been thinking.</p> +<hr /> +<h4>"THE FUTURE OF LYING.</h4> +<h5>"INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE TO BE CALLED."</h5> +<p><i>Northampton Dally Echo.</i></p> +<p>We should have thought it might quite safely be left to private +enterprise.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The American troops on this side are already either in the +States or on their way."—<i>Letter in "Daily +Express."</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Germans will take this as convincing evidence of American +duplicity.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page007" id="page007"></a>[pg +7]</span> +<h2>THE HISTORY OF A JOKE.</h2> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-1.png" alt= +"BEFORE THE DAWN OF HISTORY IT WAS A UNIVERSAL FAVORITE." /></a>BEFORE +THE DAWN OF HISTORY IT WAS A UNIVERSAL FAVORITE.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-2.png" alt= +"THE EGYPTIANS LOVED IT." /></a>THE EGYPTIANS LOVED IT.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-3.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-3.png" alt= +"THE ASSYRIANS NEVER GREW TIRED OF IT." /></a>THE ASSYRIANS NEVER +GREW TIRED OF IT.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-4.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-4.png" alt= +"THE GREEKS GRINNED AT IT." /></a>THE GREEKS GRINNED AT IT.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-5.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-5.png" alt= +"THE ROMANS REVELLED IN IT." /></a>THE ROMANS REVELLED IN IT.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-6.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-6.png" alt= +"HENGIST OFTEN TOLD IT TO HORSA." /></a>HENGIST OFTEN TOLD IT TO +HORSA.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-7.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-7.png" alt= +"IT WAS RELISHED BY THE SAXONS." /></a>IT WAS RELISHED BY THE +SAXONS.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-8.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-8.png" alt= +"THE NORMANS KNEW IT WELL." /></a>THE NORMANS KNEW IT WELL.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-9.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-9.png" alt= +"IT NEVER LOST ITS FRESHNESS THROUGH THE MIDDLE AGES." /></a>IT +NEVER LOST ITS FRESHNESS THROUGH THE MIDDLE AGES.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-10.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-10.png" alt= +"HENRY VIII. MADE HIS REPUTATION BY IT." /></a>HENRY VIII. MADE HIS +REPUTATION BY IT.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-11.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-11.png" alt= +"CHARLES II. REGALED HIS COURT WITH IT." /></a>CHARLES II. REGALED +HIS COURT WITH IT.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-12.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-12.png" alt= +"IN THE GEORGIAN ERA IT REMAINED UNDIMMED." /></a>IN THE GEORGIAN +ERA IT REMAINED UNDIMMED.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/007-13.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-13.png" alt= +"IT WAS POPULAR IN THE SIXTIES." /></a>IT WAS POPULAR IN THE +SIXTIES.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/007-14.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007-14.png" alt= +"AND ONLY LAST WEEK IT WAS THE HIT OF ALL THE NEWEST REVUES." /></a>AND +ONLY LAST WEEK IT WAS THE HIT OF ALL THE NEWEST REVUES.</div> +<hr /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page008" id="page008"></a>[pg +8]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/008.png"><img width="100%" src="images/008.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>THE NEW DEMOCRACY.</h3> +<p><i>Telegraph Girl (at last finding addressee after marching down +the room, shouting, "Bullock! Bullock! Anybody here name o' +Bullock?"—contemplatively, as she awaits answer).</i> "UMPH! +NOT MUCH LIKE A BULLOCK, ARE YER?"</p></div> +<hr /> +<h3>IN MEMORY OF DORA.</h3> +<h5>(<i>A joyous anticipation</i>.)</h5> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Walk very softly here and very slowly;</p> +<p class="i2">Let no sound pass the barrier of your teeth;</p> +<p>Not that the spot whereon you tread is holy,</p> +<p class="i2">But lest you rouse her up that lies beneath.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She ruthlessly curtailed our golf and skittles;</p> +<p class="i2">She vetoed daily sprees and nightly jinks;</p> +<p>She doled our baccy and weighed out our victuals,</p> +<p class="i2">And watered (cruellest of all) our drinks.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Anathema (by order) were our races;</p> +<p class="i2">Joy-riding was taboo in car or train;</p> +<p>And when they ventured to kick o'er the traces</p> +<p>She strafed her victims till they roared again.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now where she sleeps the sleep that knows no waking</p> +<p class="i2">A simply graven sentence marks the place</p> +<p>(The Latin's shaky but bears no mistaking):—</p> +<p class="i2">"<i>Hic jacet DORA and hic let her jace</i>."</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h4>An Unhappy Christmas.</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>"A number of persons have booked dooms for +Yuletide."—<i>Scottish Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<h3>THE BROTHER SERVICE.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>MR. PUNCH, DEAR SIR,—I am still with the Q.M.A.A.C.'s at +what used to be called the Front. But do not imagine I am cut off +from news. Papers from home pour in by every mail. I read articles +written by People Who Know, and speeches of politicians to female +electors, and that is how I have learned that it is we Women of +England who have won the War.</p> +<p>Yet out here one cannot help noticing that the War was not waged +entirely by the lovelier sex. And so I am writing to ask you to say +a word or two about the work of the Brother Service, the less +conspicuous branches of our army, the men who hauled big guns +about, who stood in trenches, who looked after ammunition, or who +killed mules to provide us with pressed beef. Little bits of the +great machinery—hangers-on of the great Women's Army +Corps—yes, but without the humble hairpin the whole coiffure +falls to the ground.</p> +<p>I have never been a pessimist or a scaremonger, but <i>without +some of these men I don't believe we women would have won the War +at all!</i></p> +<p>They ought to be encouraged, Mr. Punch. Could you not start a +Muscle Competition for the men who helped the women win the War? +Something like the Beauty Competitions for us other warriors? Why +not offer prizes to the Tommy with the biggest biceps, the +Subaltern with the thickest calf, and the Brigadier with the finest +abdominal development?</p> +<p>One is so afraid that at the next European crisis the War +Office, having learned its history from picture papers, will simply +mobilise the women and forget all about the men. Those absurd +machine guns with their wobbly legs really need a man's touch. +Besides, it would be so jolly dull without them.</p> +<p>No, the men really helped, and we ought not to forget it.</p> +<p>I hope that in years to come, when little voices in the +firelight (that's a pretty touch—who says the Army has made +us unfeminine?) beseech me, "Tell us again how you won the War, +Great-grandma," I shall retain sufficient perspective to reply, +"Granny didn't do it all alone, darlings; there were a lot of men +who helped too."</p> +<p>Yours faithfully,</p> +<p>ADMINISTRATOR Q.M.A.A.C.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<p>From a description of our infantry's arrival in +Cologne:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Then came more Fusiliers, the Lancashire Fusiliers and the +Royal Dublin Fusiliers, and after them battalions from all parts of +the British Isles.... It was wonderfully thrilling to go from one +bridge to the other, from skirl of pipes to the triumphant swing of +'John Peel,' and then to the 'Maple Leaf For Ever.'"</p> +<p><i>Times.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>And what did the Dublins play? "Erin on the Rhine"?</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page009" id="page009"></a>[pg +9]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/009.png"><img width="100%" src="images/009.png" alt= +"THE 1919 MODEL." /></a> +<h3>THE 1919 MODEL.</h3> +<p>MR. PUNCH. "THEY'VE GIVEN YOU A FINE NEW MACHINE, MR. PREMIER, +AND YOU'VE GOT PLENTY OF SPIRIT; BUT LOOK OUT FOR BUMPS."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page010" id="page010"></a>[pg +10]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/010.png"><img width="100%" src="images/010.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Enthusiastic Civilian</i>.—"WELL, HOW ARE YOU ENJOYING +YOURSELF, MATE?"</p> +<p><i>Mons Veteran</i>.—"MIDDLIN'."</p> +<p><i>Enthusiastic Civilian</i>.—"OH, YOU'VE GOT TO GET USED +TO IT. OF COURSE AT FIRST IT SEEMS A BIT BRUTAL."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE WATCH DOGS.</h2> +<h4>LXXIX.</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>My dear Charles,—Old Bowdler has been brooding again on +that idea of a brief for the defence in the forthcoming trial of +the ex-Kaiser. He rather fancies himself cross-examining with +courtesy but firmness some Generalissimo or other, or reducing to +tears by an eloquent speech a court packed with everybody who is +anybody, and in both cases having the eyes of Europe upon him and +the ears of America hanging on his next word. After all, barristers +will be barristers and, when they are, your ordinary man is no +match for 'em. It took another man of his own kind to knock the +conceit out of the idea.</p> +<p>Lack of precedent was no difficulty to Bowdler's learned +opponent. A ready imagination made up. To hear him talk you would +think he had spent his life assisting at the trials of ex-Kaisers. +He described the whole affair as if it had already taken place. +Thus:—</p> +<p>The culprit, he assumed, is on bail, though not, of course, on +his own recognizances. First, attention is called to the case by +Counsel for the Prosecution rising early in the sitting and asking +his Lordship if he might mention the case of WILLIAM HOHENZOLLERN, +next on his Lordship's list.</p> +<p>"William who?" asks the Clerk of Assize.</p> +<p>"WILLIAM HOHENZOLLERN," answers counsel: "H-O-H-E-N-Z-O-double +L-E-R-N."</p> +<p>A titter is heard at the idea of a man going about with a name +like that. His Lordship, regarding it as a nuisance rather than a +joke, threatens to have the court cleared. A juryman in waiting in +the gallery seizes the opportunity to ask, if anyone is to be +turned out, might it be himself.</p> +<p>Counsel goes on to mention the case. "A complicated case of +false pretences, my Lord——," he begins. But his +solicitor plucks at his gown and points out to him that he is +confusing his briefs. Counsel apologises to the Court and asks +leave to refresh his memory. In a passionate whisper to his +solicitor he asks who is this Hohenzollern man, anyway, and why the +devil does he want to be mentioned before his time? Enlightened, he +explains to the Court that the accused has got some money together +for a dock defence and would like an opportunity to instruct his +counsel more fully.</p> +<p>His Lordship refuses a postponement; Hohen-what's-his-name +should have thought of this before. His Lordship has every +confidence in counsel's ability to pick up the facts as the case +proceeds. If counsel's personal convenience is involved that is +another matter. But as for Zohenhollern—["Hohenzollern, my +Lord"]—he cannot expect particular treatment; and that will +do, thank you.</p> +<p>The ushers start calling out for him to surrender to his bail: +"Hohenzollern! Hhhohenzollern! Owen Zollern!" re-echoes throughout +the building. "Zollern—O-N!" is heard faintly in the far +distance. No one notices that a gentleman with a fierce moustache +has already made his dramatic entry and is trying to push his way +into the dock....</p> +<p>He is stood up with half-a-dozen other prisoners, so that one +jury may be sworn for the lot. It is desired that each prisoner +should be identified with his name as it is called. WILLIAM +HOHENZOLLERN, whichever he may be, is asked to bold up his hand. An +old man in corduroys, who wears a dirty handkerchief round his neck +for collar and cravat, and is charged with feloniously stealing, +taking and carrying away his forty-first pair of boots and is also +a bit 'ard of 'earing, insists that he is the man. As nothing will +persuade him that he is not, the Clerk of Assize leaves it to the +warders to decide which of the two is which. After all it is a +small point.</p> +<p>The case is called on and WILLIAM is left in sole possession of +the dock. This is his moment, thinks he. With set features he +stands forward and <span class="pagenum"><a name="page011" id= +"page011"></a>[pg 11]</span> assumes the most important attitude +possible.</p> +<p>"Are you WILLIAM HOHENZOLLERN?" asks the Clerk of Assize.</p> +<p>There is a pause. "I am," says he.</p> +<p>Everyone turns to have a look at him. Feeling that he is +thoroughly impressing everyone WILLIAM fixes a commanding eye on +the judge, compelling, as he supposes, his utmost attention.</p> +<p>"Let's adjourn for lunch," says the judge....</p> +<p>When at last the case gets to its hearing (so far as anything at +all can be heard over the small talk in front of the dock and the +shuffle of impatient feet behind it) a novel point arises. A +witness refers to the War. "What war?" asks his Lordship. Counsel +thinks he can explain, but WILLIAM isn't for letting him. "Will you +keep silence?" says the Judge to WILLIAM. "You must call evidence +to prove that there was a war," he says to counsel.</p> +<p>WILLIAM faints upon realising that Armageddon, his masterpiece, +was such that judicial knowledge wasn't aware of it....</p> +<p>Witness after witness is called; barrister after barrister, in +the bar beneath the dock rail, goes to sleep. WILLIAM, after +shaking off the stupor caused by the awful disregard of his +personality, begins to murmur incoherently. The warder taps him on +the shoulder. WILLIAM, who has never even conceived of being tapped +by anybody, bursts out with an exclamation. The worst thing which +has ever happened to him in his life then happens. Bowdler, Bowdler +of all the un-imperial and un-godlike people in this world, turns +to WILLIAM to rebuke him in a stern whisper, telling him that he is +doing himself no good and concluding his remarks with "My +man"....</p> +<p>The trial proceeds, WILLIAM being speechless with rage. In his +ears is ringing a Hymn of Hate—hate of everybody in the +court, but particularly of Bowdler. Every time he can get his brain +to work and his tongue to work with it, he leans forward to breathe +some drastic utterance at his defending counsel. Bowdler remains +detached. WILLIAM (late Kaiser) has to realise as a cold fact that +here is a wretched mortal daring to sharpen a pencil while he is +being addressed by the ALL-HIGHEST. The ALL-HIGHEST reaches over +the dock rail to thump the wretched mortal's wretched head....</p> +<p>Bowdler rises deliberately. There is a hush. He is going to say +something important. WILLIAM feels that at last the world is sane +and duly attentive to him again. Bowdler submits that the state of +mind of the accused person (accused person!) should be inquired +into.</p> +<p>The judge very readily acquiesces; anything to get rid of the +fellow. The prison doctor swears that he has never seen a lunatic +if this isn't one. An assertive juryman, who disapproves of +business being so rushed as not to permit of a hanging, expresses +the view aloud that it is all put on. Silence ensues upon the +anomaly of a juryman daring to express a view aloud; WILLIAM avails +himself of this silence for the same purpose. His view, which was +evidently intended to take some time in the expressing, starts off +with personal reminiscences of the intimate friendship and business +partnership between himself and the Almighty. The juryman at once +gives in and the verdict is found before WILLIAM has completed his +second sentence....</p> +<p>WILLIAM hears himself being ordered "to be detained during His +Majesty's pleasure." The warder, propelling him down below stairs +to the cells, makes it quite clear to WILLIAM that the Majesty +referred to is not his (WILLIAM'S)....</p> +<p>Bowdler follows later to tell WILLIAM what a lucky fellow he is, +and also to take off him one pound, three shillings and +sixpence....</p> +<p>Yours ever, HENRY.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/011.png"><img width="100%" src="images/011.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Conducting Officer.</i> "IT'S NOT A BAD LITTLE BATTLEFIELD; +BUT I'M AFRAID IT'S AWFULLY UNTIDY."</p> +</div> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<h3>A "Pocket" Borough.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"Beyrout, the ancient Berytus, is 55 miles WNW from Damascus. +The port is strongly fortified, its walls being three inches in +circumference."—<i>East African Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<h3>The Euphemistic Moslem.</h3> +<p>"DEATH OF TURKISH MINISTER.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"A Constantinople message reports that the Turkish Minister of +the Interior has resigned."</p> +<p><i>Australian Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page012" id="page012"></a>[pg +12]</span> +<h2>GUARANTEED.</h2> +<p>"You recognize, of course, that the situation is exceptional," +said Edith's mother. "You left New York on December 2, and arrived +at Euston on December 13. To-day, December 18, you ask me for my +daughter's hand, after a three days' acquaintance. Is this the +usual American pace?"</p> +<p>"That is hardly my fault," I said. "We ran into a nasty bit of +weather off Cape Race and lost twelve hours."</p> +<p>"Still," she said, "under the circumstances you will admit that +I have the right to put a few questions. Edith is all I have. She +has naturally not told me everything, but I gather you have spoken +to her a good deal about yourself."</p> +<p>"Not more than three or four hours at a sitting," I replied.</p> +<p>"And you have never spoken to anyone else as you have to +Edith?"</p> +<p>"I have."</p> +<p>"Oh," she said.</p> +<p>"I wish it had been otherwise," I pleaded; "but life is very +complex nowadays on both sides of the Atlantic. Much that I have +told Edith I have also revealed to the passport clerk at Washington +and the keeper of birth records in New York. Something too I +confided to the assistant-book-keeper in the War Zone Bureau at the +Custom-House in New York, to the cashier of the French consulate at +home, and to the gateman of Cunard Pier 54, at the foot of West +Fourteenth Street. I am sorry; I wish Edith had been the first to +whom I gave up the inner secrets of my soul, but the fact is that +to some extent she was anticipated by your Military Control-Officer +at Liverpool."</p> +<p>"It might have been worse," she sighed. "You have nice manners +and a good face. At home I suppose you are quite popular?"</p> +<p>"Up to the twenty-fifth of October I shouldn't have said so," I +replied. "But since then a great many people have taken to me. Not +quite like DORIS KEANE, you know, but still I have distributed in a +little more than a month no fewer than three dozen photographs of +myself two and a-half inches square. Your consul at New York took +two, the French Chamber of Commerce took three, and I am having +some more ready for the time when I go to make application for my +emergency ration card, in case your food department proves equally +susceptible. I have been asked out a great deal. The State +Department at Washington made me come down for several weekends and +your Military Officer at home had me in on three successive +days."</p> +<p>"Mr. Smith," she said, "you seem an honest man. Do you, in your +heart, believe yourself good enough for my Edith?"</p> +<p>"Had you asked me that six weeks ago," I said, "I should have +answered 'No.' Before I spoke to Edith, that very same question +flashed up within me. I saw the golden sheen of her hair in the +moonlight—for you do sometimes have moonlight here in +London—and wondered whether I had the right to speak. Of +course I was not good enough for her, but still I felt that I was +not altogether unfit. I might justly ask for her in the face of +high Heaven, the Passport Bureau at Washington, the War Zone Bureau +at the Custom-House, the head clerk at the Cunard office, the +watchman at the pier, the official who changed my American money +into your own very confusing monetary system, the man at the head +of the gang-plank, the man at the foot of the gang-plank, the +steward who filled my alien's declaration, the steward who gave me +my landing-card, several battalions of control officers, and +approximately half the Allied diplomatic services. When I spoke to +Edith I had all the documents in my breast-pocket, and my heart +glowed with justifiable confidence beneath them. The dear girl +never asked for my college certificate and my luggage check, but I +have them all here."</p> +<p>"Perhaps it isn't necessary," she said. "You may have her, my +dear boy."</p> +<p>"Without even looking at my Czecho-Slovak <i>visé</i> my +club dues for 1918, and my inoculation receipt for typhoid and +paratyphoid A and B?" I stammered.</p> +<p>"You have a nice face," she said.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/012.png"><img width="100%" src="images/012.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p>"WOT'S OUR NOO M.P.'S BIZNESS?"</p> +<p>"'E'S IN THE JOBMASTERING LINE I THINK. I 'EARD 'E ARST TO BE +SENT BACK TO 'ELP CLEAN OUT THE ORGEAN STABLES."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>OUR GREAT UNKNOWN.</h3> +<p><i>First Official</i>. I say, who is the Head of the Thingumyjig +Ministry—the one at the Hotel Giorgione?</p> +<p><i>Second Official</i>. Haven't an idea. I thought it had been +wound up.</p> +<p><i>First Official</i>. Well, I'm not so sure of that. There was +an announcement about it in the papers, and then an official +<i>démenti</i>, and then the Minister resigned, and now I +hear he has been reappointed.</p> +<p><i>Second Official</i>. Then you evidently knew his name all +along. Why on earth did you ask me?</p> +<p><i>First Official</i>. You see, it's like this. I had a bet on +with a man at the Club that out of ten Government officials not +more than one would know the Minister's name. You didn't, and you +happen to be the ninth who didn't, so I've won my bet. By the way, +do you know what has become of the <i>chef</i> at the +Giorgione?</p> +<p><i>Second Official</i>. You mean old Savary, who was always +gassing about his descent from NAPOLEON'S General? I think he went +back to Paris some time ago.</p> +<p><i>First Official</i>. Thanks; then I win my second +bet—that out of ten Government officials five would know +<i>his</i> name.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>Unnatural History.</h3> +<p>From a <i>feuilleton:</i>—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"She watched him catch the sticklebacks which were one day to +turn into frogs."</p> +<p><i>Church Family Newspaper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The Crown Prince expressed hope he would one day be able to +return to Germany and live there as a sample +citizen."—<i>Bath Herald</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We don't think quite so badly of the Germans as all that.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"To Property Owners and Hotel Proprietors.—Start +Redecorating and Repairs now, before the rush comes, and gives the +boys returning a chance for work."—<i>Provincial +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Personally, we shall postpone our order until the boys do come +home.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page013" id="page013"></a>[pg +13]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/013.png"><img width="100%" src="images/013.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Artist.</i> "I CAN'T AFFORD TEN POUNDS. MY BANK TELLS ME I'M +OVERDRAWN NOW."</p> +<p><i>His Wife</i>. "SURELY YOU CAN GET IT AT ANOTHER BANK? THEY +CAN'T ALL BE AS HARD UP AS THAT."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A CONSPIRACY IN THE POULTRY-YARD.</h2> +<blockquote> +<p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,—I suppose it must be conceded that +practical jokes have not the vogue that they once enjoyed. No +longer do you discover some fine morning that the street in which +you live is blockaded with furniture vans, all endeavouring to +deliver furniture you don't require and never heard of before, +while your staircase is a mass of flowers and fruit constantly +increasing upon you and threatening to smother you with their +amount no less than with their scent. It would gradually appear +that the deliveries both of the flowers and the furniture were +being executed in accordance with the orders of one of your +friends, and that you had to grin and bear it as best you might. I +cannot say that the victim or the general public, when they heard +of it, looked upon it with any excess of enthusiasm. Anyhow, +practical jokes have gone out.</p> +<p>Yet there is a kind of practical joke which, so far as I know, +has never been played upon anybody, and which, if it wore played, +might provoke a considerable volume of laughter and no small +inconvenience. I have schemed it out and venture to submit the plan +to you.</p> +<p>My idea is to take some weekly magazine which caters either for +some special trade or amusement or pursuit. Let us imagine it to be +<i>The Chicken Run</i>, with which is incorporated <i>The Fowls' +Guardian</i>. I am entitled to assume that most of Mr. Punch's +readers are acquainted with this bright and lively feathered +journal. My plan is to get together some bold spirits, to capture +the editor and his staff, and to hold them in a comfortable but +rigorous imprisonment for one week; to take possession of the +editorial office, and then to set to work to transform the contents +of the paper. I foresee the amazement of the faithful readers of +<i>The Chicken Run</i>, on being informed, in the column headed +"Hints to Beginners," that Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S pet Leghorn cockerel +has developed a surprising taste for latchkeys, and recently +swallowed two of them, while Mr. ASQUITH'S Buff Orpington pullet +has taken to following him about like a dog and roosting on his +bed-rail. Then there would be a breezy editorial article designed +to prove that poultry had come out of the war with a much enhanced +reputation, owing to the loyal part they had played in assisting +the FOOD-CONTROLLER.</p> +<p>Further, there would be special articles proving, for instance, +that champagne is the one drink on which all breeds of chickens +increase and multiply their production of eggs, especially if hot +caviare is afterwards administered in large bowls. Then there would +be the first chapters of an enthralling serial whose plot revolved +round the love-story of Sir Robert Wyandotte and Lady Cecilia +Buttercup—a literary effort of unparalleled brilliancy due to +the genius of a new novelist who preferred to be known as the Red +Rover of Rhode Island. And so on and so on. If you think the scheme +is feasible, let me hear from you and I will begin to get my team +of villains together.</p> +<p>Yours faithfully,</p> +<p>THE GAME CHICK.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Women and young persons now employed in these works enjoy a +miximum working week of fifty-five and a half +hours."—<i>Sunday Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And, we suppose, a manimum wage.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page014" id="page014"></a>[pg +14]</span> +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> +<h4>"THE BABES IN THE WOOD."</h4> +<p>When I saw a dull red glow in the early evening sky above the +great open flares that lit the portals of the Theatre Royal, I said +to myself, "This brings the Peace home to one!" But those who think +that England will never be the same after the War, that all things +will become new and better, have not reckoned with the Drury Lane +Pantomime. Its tactics may change, but its general strategy remains +untouched by War or Peace. Under any name—<i>Ali Baba</i> or +<i>Aladdin</i>, <i>Puss in Boots</i> or <i>The Babes in the +Wood</i>—its savour is the same. If only a tenth part of the +enterprise that goes to the making of its great pageants were +devoted to the invention of a new subject, though it were only +<i>The Babes in Boots</i> or <i>Puss in the Wood</i>! However, with +Bolshevism in the air it is best perhaps not to tamper with British +institutions.</p> +<p>Still, even within the limits imposed by immemorial tradition +there surely must be somebody in the United Kingdom who could make +a better book. It was pathetic that so capable a cast—Miss +LILY LONG in particular—should have such second-rate stuff to +say and sing. Seldom could one detect any attempt to evade the +obvious. Of topical allusions, apart from timeworn themes of +coupons and profiteers, there was scarce a sign, and such burlesque +as there was had no sort of subtlety in it. Take, for example, the +opportunity lost in the imitation of a bedroom scene from modern +drama. It announced itself as something "West-Endy," yet it was +like nothing (I imagine) even in the remote Orient. And constantly +the poor play of <i>esprit</i> had to be carried off by the +distracting thud of some falling body or covered by the deadening +clash of the eternal cymbals.</p> +<p>It is significant, in this connection, that there never seems to +be any male character in these pantomimes that is not committed to +buffoonery. Apparently no reliance is placed on the unassisted +humour of the dialogue. A funny remark must be clinched with a +somersault, a repartee be driven home by a resounding smack on the +face. You might have thought that on such an occasion there would +be room for the figure of some gallant soldier of the masculine +sex. Yet there wasn't a vestige of khaki in the whole show, and the +only patriotic song assigned to a man's voice had to be delivered +by the comic villain.</p> +<p>However, the actors were too good to be defeated by the authors; +and the two couples—the <i>Babes</i> (Mr. STANLEY LUPINO as +<i>Horace</i> and Mr. WILL EVANS as <i>Flossie</i>) and the +<i>Robbers</i> (Messrs. EGBERT)—went far by their personal +drollery and unflagging spirits to make up for any defect in the +words. Each member of the two pairs played very loyally into the +other's hands. Mr. ALBERT EGBERT indeed played into his brother's +feet with equal devotion; and the good humour with which he +accepted the fiercest blows on face and person seemed to indicate +an exceptionally close fraternal understanding.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/014.png"><img width="50%" src="images/014.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h5>THE AGE OF INNOCENCE</h5> +<center><i>Horace</i> ... Mr. STANLEY LUPINO.<br /> +<i>Flossie</i> ... Mr. WILL EVANS.</center> +</div> +<br /> +<p>Mr. HARRY CLAFF as the Wicked Uncle (with a note or two in the +operatic manner) belied his villainous nature by an unusually +amiable temperament; and Miss FLORENCE SMITHSON, with her dainty +air, furnished interludes of conventional song, during which we +gave our ribs a rest.</p> +<p>The dancing, as usual, was rather perfunctory, if one excepts a +<i>pas de deux</i> which gave promise of a parody of the Russians +and turned out to be just a series of contortionist feats, +brilliant but unlovely.</p> +<p>As good wine needs no bush, so good babes need no wood; but +Messrs. McCLEERY and HUMPHRIES painted for them a quite nice one, +where, after some very pleasant business with a brace of giant +mushrooms that went up and down like a lift, the robins came and +camouflaged the wanderers under a counterpane of fallen leaves, +where they behaved much better than in ordinary beds. But the best +scene was M. MARC HENRI's Temple of Peace—very beautiful with +its dim perspective, till the garish light of "The Day" was turned +on. Here the assertive colours of the Allies were tempered to an +exquisite pale harmony, only slightly damaged by a nondescript +contingent in pink (possibly neutrals) and the apparition of Mr. +ARTHUR COLLINS and other gentlemen in black, who came on to receive +the expression of our grateful approbation.</p> +<p>I stayed long enough into the Harlequinade to see little Prince +OLAF of Norway, in QUEEN ALEXANDRA's box, capture a large cracker +dexterously flung to him by the Pantaloon. So ended for me an +evening more jocund than I have had the good grace to admit.</p> +<p>O. S.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>Our Classical Advertisers.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"The trade-mark name of tins coat—'Aquascutum'—is a +Latin word, and translated into our own good English, 'Aqua,' means +water. 'Scutum' means to shed. There you are—Watershed."</p> +<p><i>Advt. in Canadian Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"They belileve that an not inconsiderable number of +dddeeeeeddlllllllcleeeeeece cw pavem ponnun <i>ex-parte</i> +opinions are given for what they may be worth."</p> +<p><i>Manchester Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>For our part we belileve this estimate of the value of +<i>ex-parte</i> opinions, of the kind indicated, to be sound, if +rather scathing.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"In lieu of the February Sale and Spring Show, hitherto held in +April, an important sale of pure-bred bulls will be held in the +Show Grounds at Ballsbridge, on Thursday and Friday, 13th and 14th +March."—<i>Cork Examiner.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>We trust the above specimen will be duly entered.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"After the act from <i>Masks and Faces</i> came the +letter-reading, the murder and the sleepwalking scenes from +<i>Macbeth</i>, with Miss Mary Anderson and Mr. Lyn Harding. Tragic +poetry of this intensity, of course, knocks everything else +endways."—<i>Times.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Or, as SHAKSPEARE himself is said to have exclaimed, as he +penned the last line of it, "That's the stuff to give 'em."</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"There should also be mentioned the merchants' bank, Towarzystwo +Pozyczkowe Przemyslowcow Miasta Poznania."</p> +<p><i>Journal of the Royal Statistical Society.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>We have tried to mention it, but failed miserably.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The Major then spoke of battles in which he had taken part. He +had been wounded in the back leg and arm."—<i>Evening +News.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Bit of a dog, this Major.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"PROMOTION.-Rifleman P.R. Shand to be Sergeant +Cock."—<i>Ceylon Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>We hope Sergeant Cock was consulted about this.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page015" id="page015"></a>[pg +15]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/015.png"><img width="100%" src="images/015.png" alt= +"SEMI-OFFICIAL LETTER" /></a> +<p>"IS THAT AN OFFICIAL LETTER YOU ARE WRITING, MISS BROWN?"</p> +<p>"IT'S—SEMI-OFFICIAL, SIR."</p> +<p>"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY SEMI-OFFICIAL?"</p> +<p>"WELL, SIR—IT'S TO AN OFFICER."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<h5><i>(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)</i></h5> +<p>Not infrequently our novelists will follow success with a boy +hero by a sequel showing the same character grown up. Mr. E.F. +BENSON, however, has reversed this process, and in a second book +about <i>David Blaize</i> introduces him grown not up, but down. So +far down, indeed, as to be able to pass through a door conveniently +situated under his own pillow and leading to a dreamland of the +most varied enchantments. I know, of course, what you are about to +say; I can see your lips already forming upon the word +<i>Alice</i>. But while I admit that <i>David Blaize and the Blue +Door</i> (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) is frankly built after that famous +plan this means no more than that Mr. BENSON has used, so to speak, +the CARROLL formula as a medium for his agreeable fancies. These +are altogether original and filled with the proper dream-spirit of +inconsequence. Moreover the author has a pretty gift for +remembering just the stuff that childhood's dreams are made +of—such transfigured delights as swimming like fishes or +flying in a company of birds; he knows too the odd tags of speech +that linger there from daytime, things meaningless and full of +meaning—"Rod-pole-or-perch," for example, or that +thrice-blessed word, "Popocatapetl." Best of all, he has resisted +the subtle temptation to be even momentarily too clever for his +audience (you know the devastating effect that may be produced if a +grown-up pauses on the edge of the circle and reminds the +story-teller that he has a reputation for wit). In fine, this early +dream of <i>David's</i> shows him fortunate in having an old family +friend like Mr. Benson to write it down; also—what I must on +no account forget—so sympathetic an artist as Mr. H.J. FORD +to make it into pictures.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Those who have learnt to value their "TAFFRAIL" will find matter +very much to their mind in his latest book, <i>A Little Ship</i> +(CHAMBERS). I do not wish to institute any invidious comparisons +between the marine mixture as provided by "TAFFRAIL" and that of +other nautical writers, but this much I may say with perfect +confidence: the men to be found in "TAFFRAIL'S" stories are true +human stuff, sturdy, dogged in doing their duty, and brave almost +beyond recklessness; but they are men all the time, and not solemn +and consecrated angels. That is, I suppose, why I find that +"TAFFRAIL'S" stories go straight to the mark and make their effect +with no undue waste of time; and, if a little bit of laughter is +occasionally worked in, so much the better. The last chapter in the +book gives an account of the Zeebrugge expedition. The story is so +bravely told that a man can hardly refrain from shouting in +apprehension and exultation as he reads it.</p> +<hr /> +<p>I have a grudge against the publishers of <i>Miss Mink's +Soldier</i> (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) because they have printed on its +wrapper, "By the Author of <i>Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch</i>," +which led me, perhaps foolishly, to hope that <i>Mrs. Wiggs</i> and +I were to foregather once more, and when we didn't made me just a +little surly towards a book of short tales which, opened with any +other expectation, would have seemed much above the average. There +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page016" id="page016"></a>[pg +16]</span> are eight stories in the book, and in almost all of them +is found that blend of pathos and humour that Mrs. ALICE HEGAN RICE +has taught us to expect. I liked "Cupid Goes Slumming," because it +was almost <i>Cabbage Patch</i>; but "Hoodooed," the story of an +old negro who believed himself the victim of a spell which involved +the presence of a cricket in his leg, delighted me even more. His +wife removes the charm with a vacuum cleaner, in which she has +previously secreted a cricket, and the victim recovers. It pleased +me very much to learn that among "white folk's superstitions" is +the theory that it is "bad luck to sleep with the windows shet," +and, when I come to think of it, I believe that it is very bad luck +indeed.</p> +<hr /> +<p>I should have liked GABRIELLE VALLINGS' <i>Tumult</i> +(HUTCHINSON) a good deal better if she could have managed it +without the aid of a Pan who wandered, emitting a strong smell, +chiefly in the demesne of a very expensive and over-cultivated +French noble. It was his daughter (by an Australian wife) who was +suffering from an inordinate perplexity as to which half of her +blood had the real call. The Australian half suggested that she +should marry a gentleman-rider who won the Grand Prix in a canter, +but fell at the winning-post because his horse shied at the +irrepressible Pan. The French half—and both her +parents—urged a dissolute and anaemic aristocrat—blue +blood and a gold lining. Her grandfather, a strong unsilent +sheep-rancher, was against this inept decadent and converted to his +view that saintly worldling, the gorgeous <i>Cardinal +Camperioni</i>. A neo-futurist of the most bizarre type prances +through the pages upon his head, causing enough "tumult" to satisfy +any one. So why drag in Pan? Miss VALLINGS can tell a story, cannot +keep down the volume of her puppets' talk, has a sense of movement +and colour, and ought to win for herself a good circulating library +constituency.</p> +<hr /> +<p>For myself I have never yet lived in a sailing barge, and under +the providence of Heaven trust to continue in this immunity. There +are however those who regard the matter differently; and for their +benefit I have no hesitation in recommending most warmly <i>A +Floating Home</i> (CHATTO AND WINDUS), written by CYRIL IONIDES and +J.B. ATKINS, and illustrated partly with photographs, partly with +water-colour sketches by that various craftsman, Mr. ARNOLD +BENNETT. Let me say at once that you have no need to be an amateur +bargee, either by practice or desire, to enjoy this most +entertaining volume. Witness my own case, who read every page of it +with delight. It is a reasonable contention that a writer +possessing the enthusiasm, the humour and the persuasive gifts of +Mr. IONIDES, with a twelve-and-sixpenny book for their display, +could present a case that would give some theoretic and superficial +charm to the most uncomfortable conditions of existence. Not that +<i>A Floating Home</i> is a work only of theory; on the contrary, +nothing could be more practical than its account of the purchase, +conversion and enjoyment of the <i>Ark Royal</i>. The most +prejudiced—again I speak personally—will find pleasure +in the author's zestful story of how the dingy, foul-smelling +<i>Will Arding</i>, full of cement (and worse things), was +transformed into the spick-and-span <i>Ark Royal</i>, with a piano +in the saloon and Queen Anne silver on the breakfast-table; while +for the persuadable there are added plans, scales of expense and +the like, which bring the whole matter to a working basis. The +book, in short, is propaganda at its best (was it perhaps this that +attracted Mr. BENNETT?) and as such well entitled to its toll of +converts.</p> +<hr /> +<p><i>Warriors and Statesmen</i> (MURRAY) is a book selected from +the "gleanings" of the late Lord BRASSEY. Such gleanings depend so +largely on the personality of the gleaner that they may be worth +anything or nothing; so let me say at once that Lord BRASSEY had +too sound a taste to be a collector of ill-considered trifles. +Although warriors have the place of honour in the title they are +given but little space in the book. Still, in these days the +soldier can well afford to let the statesman have the advantage in +a collection that does not deal with the living. This limitation +may explain the absence of all mention of Lord ROBERTS, who was +probably still alive when the gleanings were completed. Apart from +the evidence it gives of a fine mind the book preserves much that +is worth remembering and presents it in a convenient form. For this +we have in part to thank Mr. HORACE HUTCHINSON, to whom Lord +BRASSEY entrusted the work of selecting these literary sheaves.</p> +<hr /> +<p><i>From the Home Front</i> (CONSTABLE) is a further, and rather +belated, selection from the War verses that have appeared from week +to week on the second page of <i>Punch</i>. Conscious of cherishing +a natural prejudice in favour of his own productions, Mr. Punch +forbears to commend this little volume, but he may permit himself +to say that, in the judgment of <i>The Daily News</i>, which is +above suspicion of bias, it is calculated to provoke "a sorrow +chequered by disgust."</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/016.png"><img width="100%" src="images/016.png" alt= +"" /></a></div> +<p><i>Topical Huckster</i>. "'ERE YOU ARE, LADY—AS CHEWED BY +THE PRESIDENT."</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<center>"This royal throne of kings,<br /> +This sceptical isle, this seat of Mars."</center> +<i>Quotation by Miss MARIE CORELLI in "The Pall Mall +Gazette."</i></blockquote> +<br /> +<p>No man is a prophet in his own country, and this is how +Shakespeare gets treated at Stratford-on-Avon.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<pre> + + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10964 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/10964-h/images/001.png b/10964-h/images/001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9dcf4ed --- /dev/null +++ b/10964-h/images/001.png diff --git a/10964-h/images/003.png b/10964-h/images/003.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..59f74e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/10964-h/images/003.png diff --git a/10964-h/images/004.png b/10964-h/images/004.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e76989 --- /dev/null +++ b/10964-h/images/004.png diff --git 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